The Jaundice of John Jarndyce
by The Lark Ascending
Summary: BLEAK HOUSE. Loosely based on the Masterpiece Theatre production. Slightly AU. During the night following Woodcourt's proposal, Jarndyce summons the courage to approach the disconsolate Miss Esther Summerson.


The Jaundice of John Jarndyce

A clock chimed somewhere in the murky dark, after hours at Bleak House when cheery fires long lay dormant, ashes cooling in hearth grates and smoke rising into damp, chill air. Of a time it struck the younger occupants of the capacious manor as odd that such cosy quarters, the setting of many a merry gathering in good company, when sunlight streamed through silk curtains or flames danced playfully upon the hearth screen, no matter how genial the atmosphere before all retired, nonetheless underwent a startling transformation between those witching hours of twelve and six in the morning.

Perhaps the effects of the very nature of their waking moments, the jollity and warmth of their fellowship and the sheer intensity of their mirth and merry-making during the day, in fact thickened the smoke that clogged the air when flames were damped and snuffed by wearied servants; and perhaps this offered a rational explanation for the distinct quality of murkiness about the air at Bleak House in the "wee smas." This did not, however, occur to Miss Ada Clare - nor did she see fit to analyze her instinctive hesitation on the threshold of her chambers - as she had found herself insusceptible to the call of slumber since the household had retired after a game of backgammon following supper, and she now ventured forth to gander at the moon from the eastern prospect.

The bright golden locks of Miss Ada Clare gleamed silver-grey in the unearthly lunar light, but her slight frame trembled with cold; she wet her lips with her tongue in a gesture that was nervous in origin yet endearing to those who loved her, and with white, petal-like hands drew up the woolen wrapper over her head.

A loud creak, issuing from the opposite end of the long corridor, caused Ada to gasp and stifle her quiet expression of surprise with a fistful of the wool wrapper. Mr. John Jarndyce, whose familiar form had become distinguishable by the eery light of the moon, paused and looked back over his shoulder; but Ada's wide eyes, albeit luminous, escaped his notice as her hooded apparel otherwise swathed her in shadow.

"The wind is in the east once more, it seems," muttered Jarndyce, with a slight cock of his greying head to one side, and a singular furrowing of the brow and pursing of the lips that simultaneously characterized his remarkable compassion for the woes of others and his own deeply troubled conscience. He continued on his way, no doubt to turn in for the night as it grew very late, Ada knew, and as he was fully garbed in dinner dress she surmised that he had spent the intervening hours in his so-called 'Growlery-' so Ada followed her guardian at a distance, not wishing to trouble him with worries for her sleeplessness and anxiety over his less obliging ward, young Mr. Richard Carstone.

Miss Clare was herself obliged to come to a sudden stop not a moment later when Jarndyce again paused abruptly, this time before the door of his third, and mayhap most dearly prized young ward, Ada's own companion and close confidante, Miss Esther Summerson.

The little maiden in her woolen wrapper watched silently as her guardian, careworn and decidedly middle-aged, stood as if in limbo at the doors of that virtuous young lady, his own housekeeper and ward and, most recently, his betrothed. Ada had felt a slight revulsion to the implications of this new arrangement when Esther had lately divulged the information; but since then she had come to see the relationship between them in a new light, taking into careful account Esther's bashful but brave attempts to win from the inscrutably affable John Jarndyce some honest display of amorous affection, and, not entirely to his discredit, Jarndyce's constant wavering between adoring, even doting admirer and concerned, conscience-wearied paternal guardian in his interactions with Esther.

Ada's rose-and-white complexion flushed a delicate, wine-colored shade when she reflected upon her present predicament. To think of spying like a parlor maid on her guardian, who had never been aught but kind and generous to each of his three adolescent wards - most notably of late to her own beloved Richard, who yet received Jarndyce's aid in all financial matters and knew it not. Still, she found herself rooted to the spot, her progress arrested by the expression of extreme distress on the brooding countenance of John Jarndyce as he lingered by the door of Miss Summerson.

Ada was seized with the preposterous notion that she ought to lend him her encouragement, for his was such a tragic, agonized sort of indecision as showed itself plain as the day to a sensitive girl like herself, advised by none other than Miss Summerson in the quirks and foibles of the human heart. Despite her churlish feelings of resentment towards her troubled guardian, fostered by Richard's nigh-obsessive investment of resources in the endless affairs at Chancery Court and Jarndyce's alleged conflict of interest in the outcome of the estate settlement - disregarding his avowed disengagement from any and all court proceedings, Miss Ada Clare could not truly bear him ill-will; no more, perhaps, than could Richard Carstone, in that young gentleman's heart of hearts. In this instance, Ada pitied him with all of hers; all the more so, being privy, as she was, to the full extent of Esther Summerson's attachment thereto, and being aware of that young lady's ardent desire to lend her comfort to the hitherto parched soul of her betrothed and to be received with the unaffected warmth and passion of a devoted lover in kind.

Jarndyce raised a hand as if to knock at the door, and Ada gasped and smiled, to her own surprise, the resulting dimples lending girlishness to her aspect, which of late had matured into the sterner lines of womanhood. But at last Jarndyce faltered, as Ada had feared, and with a hopeless sigh and a dejected shrug like an inward collapse of the shoulders, he hurried away towards his own rooms with the air of a little boy who has thought twice before raiding the pantry after Cook has gone to bed.

When his heavy tread grew faint, Ada drew forth to Esther's doorstep, meaning to rouse her in order to relate what she had presently witnessed; but there was no need, for her young companion was awake and seemingly wracked by sobs of a wanton, despairing quality that was quite out of character with the quiet, self-contained Esther known to her friends.

Truly, Miss Summerson lay face down on her bed in dishabille, fully dressed still - her hair, dark as a raven and glossy as a chestnut, curled round the pillow like English Ivy, clinging all about her face and neck when she rose to receive her friend.

"Ada, I do wish you hadn't troubled yourself over one such as I tonight - as you see I have given myself up to dark thoughts and shameless self-pity, with no cause at all for my sufferings, when those who wander the streets or tarry for shelter, such as it may be, at Tom-All-Alone's go hungry and cold, and we pass lovely hours in good comradeship here, snug and warm at Bleak House - and yet - oh, Ada."

"You silly child," cooed the much more child-like of the two in a motherly tone of voice that Esther found odd in one so small and apparently fragile, yet comforting nonetheless.

"Don't call me a child, Ada, or I shall feel that you equate me with the likes of Mr. Skimpole, and esteem me as such," said Esther in jest, rallying her wits and composure; indeed, she could hardly do otherwise, as so many of her nights had been spent comforting and reassuring Ada that it was, by now, little more than instinctive in her to do so.

"I won't be put off by your 'excellent deportment,' or whatever it is they call it at that school of Caddy Jellyby's husband - no, Esther, don't be cross with me as I'm only making fun, myself. Now I pray you, hearken to what I say, for I may be ignorant of many a subtlety that passes not by you nor Richard unaccounted for, but in one subject I may yet prove more of a clairvoyant than either of you."

Esther piled up the pillows behind them with Ada's assistance, and, lifting her face from her handkerchief for a moment, inquired as to which subject this might be, for there were many possibilities, indeed.

"Don't flatter me, dear; I know as well as any that my place in life is simply to love and to care for Richard. It is my only ambition, Esther - that, and to see you contented in your own right. No, don't let me see your disappointment, for I shan't bear it."

"Ada!" interrupted the other young lady, whose features were of a plainer sort; yet some quality was present in her natural bearing, or perhaps in the lately restored porcelain-white of her complexion, which suggested an element of the old English nobility - he who knew Miss Summerson but from a distance might call it pride, though her closest acquaintances held it to be naught other than the naturally radiant grace of her innermost character.

"Ada," Esther went on in a gentler tone, "I believe you to be capable of anything you should wish for in life. Be it to epitomize perfection in the English housewife, you shall, God willing, meet your goal."

"I won't be put off, Esther, you will hear me this very instant!" rejoined the unusually animated lady, whose fair cheeks burned a little with the excitement of her tidings.

"Well, in that case! I'm sure you have all the benefits of my undivided attention, Ada," said Esther as she settled into the feather bed, drawing the coverlet about them both and patting the golden head that lay beneath hers on the pillow. Despite the foreboding air of Bleak House proper outside the girls' door, within was once again familiar and warm as the two embraced for the sake of companionship. The light from a pair of twisted candles, which Esther had not been able to bring herself to extinguish, played a lively game of charades upon the mantle at the foot of the bed, and the two womanly creatures ensconced within watched a moment in silence, save for the occasional wellspring of laughter which bubbled up from nightingale throats with the sweetness of the same. Ada was quiet and serious, however, when she spoke her piece at last:

"I mean to address you on the subject of Mr. Jarndyce, Esther. Since you have at last entrusted me with your secret, I feel I may take the liberty to be so bold -"

Esther sighed and shut her white lids over inky blue eyes. "Oh, Ada, you may take any liberty of the kind, as we are the dearest of old friends. We four of Bleak House are the only family any of us has ever known, aren't we, dear?"

"What a strange, nostalgic mood you are in tonight, darling Esther! But yes, truly, you say sooth. Now, to Mr. Jarndyce -"

"Yes, Ada, what of our dear guardian."

"Our 'dear guardian,' as you now call him, is unable to claim a moment's rest because he is, at this very moment, tormented by indecision."

"What! And has he told you as much? Have you just seen him, Ada?"

"I have seen him - just now, poised outside your door, trying in vain to muster the foolhardiness he believes to be necessary in an older man who wishes to woo a lady much younger than himself. I cannot help but wonder if Lord Dedlock felt any sort of guilt when he came to make love to Lady Dedlock so many years ago - ah, Esther, don't go pale, I shan't talk of strangers any longer for I know how it pains you. But no, dear one, I did not exactly speak to Mr. Jarndyce in the hallway for I thought it not quite seemly."

Esther turned her face into Ada's rumpled curls, the color of peach staining her porcelain skin from the neck upwards. "You thought truly, Ada! What were you doing, that you should have witnessed such an embarrassment of both myself and Mr. Jarndyce? You see that he finds it difficult to be too near me now - and yet I am sure, in the depths of my being, that he once cared very much for me in the way that a man cares for a woman, and often desired a close physical proximity that was not possible in earlier years for it was not then deemed seemly in his view nor in that of society - and always he has sought my counsel in matters better suited to the Mistress of Bleak House - but now he has, no doubt, thought better of it; I am but a... nameless wretch still, and a pock-marked one, too..."

"Esther, you are yet blinder than you were when Mr. Woodcourt was paying his suit, with red roses and all. Now here is poor, tormented Mr. Jarndyce, pining for your presence at his side - clearly famished from deprivation of your nearness, if I may say so - and your betrothed in the eyes of God, too! Why, nothing in the world stands between the two of you!"

"Then why, in God's name, does he not seize upon the moment!" burst out the exhausted Esther, the color in her cheeks fading again to pure alabaster as the emotional strain of recent weeks overtook her once more. "Here I lay, at his disposal entirely - my thoughts have been with him since he spoke, yet I too am tormented by his disregard - now that I have done my utmost to stamp out the memory of Mr. Woodcourt from my mind, and all other childish fancies with it, that I might devote my whole self, such as I am, to Mr. Jarndyce... you know, Ada, what it is to consider the prospect of giving oneself away in wedlock. 'Tis no simple matter, I fear, even for one so plain as myself, and now it has grown torturous."

Ada turned rather suddenly to one side and cupped the warm cheeks of her companion between her small, cool hands. She said movingly:

"Go to him, Esther. Like this, with your chocolate tresses unruly and your petticoats rumpled - yes, leave these buttons undone, as they are. There surely can be no truer test of a man's passion for oneself, and since we have already had innumerable proofs of his friendship and devotion, what can be more satisfactory to you both than to establish a foundation for the physical manifestation of your engagement to one another?"

Esther sat up in the feather bed and stared with wide, sapphire eyes at the boldly suggestive innocent before her.

"Surely you don't mean - offer myself to him so brazenly, when I hardly know what is in his mind - surely he would find it disgraceful-"

"As far as I am concerned, he shall not find anything any way, Esther, as you shall give it to him in any way and to whatever extent you may choose. Don't be a goose, my dear; I am not so fresh as I seem, for though my Richard is hardly so worldly as our Mr. Jarndyce, yet I have had of him some experience in the way of things between a man and a woman, as you know. I do not advocate your throwing yourself at his head like a common hussy! Surely I am not so brash as all that, but you must take the lead, Esther, for he is paralyzed; paralyzed by this inner moral conflict which is ever the bane of his existence in all things. You have spoken of this flaw of his, Esther, so you cannot deny it now when it pertains to you."

"No, no I suppose I cannot," whispered the little white lady, appearing to summon all her wits and courage of heart as she arranged her wandering tendrils into slightly less unkempt form. "He is very good, after all, to think so much of my well-being that he yet doubts his own claim to me. Perhaps it remains in his mind that I once fancied Mr. Woodcourt; but he ought to know that I am not easily given to fancies, and any attachment I may take upon myself to make, be it real and not merely imagined, is an attachment to which I shall cling dearly. I guess that you, dear, good Ada, should like to know that Mr. Woodcourt has proposed marriage; yes, this very day; and I have told him of my prior engagement to Mr. Jarndyce. Not at all reluctantly, or hesitantly, you may now, but quite forthrightly. Yes, I was once swayed by the attentions of the young doctor, but now find that my head is far too full with projections of my future as Mistress of Bleak House to be swayed by any other appeal than that of my betrothed himself. But, oh, Ada, I think you are quite right - for I must know if his heart is changed to me - because I am afraid that I'd find it too easy, even for such a steady one as I, to learn to care again for Mr. Woodcourt."

Esther's voice grew very small as she drew to the conclusion of her brief tale, and it was Ada's turn to cry:

"Oh, Esther!"

and place her arms about the other in an impassioned embrace of sympathetic feeling that nearly overcame the less hardy of the two.

Seconds passed, and a clock chimed somewhere in the depths of the belly of Bleak House, heralding the earliest of morning hours. Ada withdrew from her companion, sniffling, and extricated herself from the snug bedding. She drew her woolen wrapper over her curls once more, and Esther thought it was as if she hid her bright halo from mortal eyes.

"I shall go out by the other passage," she whispered, "for I meant to look at the moon and think of Richard. He asked me to do so, at this time, while I write to him a love-letter," she added, blushing deeply.

Esther chuckled and shooed her friend happily on her way. "Don't trouble your head, Ada, for I shall never grudge you your happiness with Richard, no matter what the state of my own affairs. I thank you now for your advice, but most of all for your company - indeed, we have made the best of sisters, have we not?"

Ada smiled a very mature, knowing smile in the flickering light. "You have made the best one, Esther. I bid you a good night, my own -"

and she bent and kissed the warm cheek of her girlhood companion.

"We are both women now, I see," murmured Esther pensively once the door had shut behind the hooded figure.

Not a moment afterwards, a high-pitched creak of the floorboards in the vicinity of the outlying corridor urged Esther into action. Mayhap Ada had forgot to relate something of importance; or perhaps she wanted to borrow a quill or a bottle of ink with which to write to Richard by moonlight, her own quarters being a good deal further off. When no knock at the door could be heard, however, and all was again silent, Esther went to her dressing table and surveyed her reflection in the glass.

"'Tis now or never, I fear," she said staunchly to herself in the mirror, fighting off the chant-like memory of her aunt's loveless words to her child-self.

Esther went to the door, intent on her purpose to the exclusion of all awareness of her present surroundings, feeling much as she had when on her way to accept Mr. Jarndyce's recent proposal of marriage. She had seen in his dark eyes the coals, or the embers, at least, of his passion for her on that day -

Flinging open the doors she sped forth, but no sooner had she crossed the threshold than she met an impediment to her progress.

"Mr. Jarndyce!" she gasped, the air stealing from her lungs as she found herself caught with considerable force in his embrace. Till now, she could only remember a formal, careful touch, if exceedingly tender, whenever they had cause to meet in this way.

"My own Esther, girl of my heart as you truly are, can you forgive an old wretch?"

"Were you - have you been - listening here a-while?" she stammered rather desperately, though aware now of his heart hammering above her breast, as it were.

"I would not have you think this evil of me, too, Esther, but yes - the answer is yes, if only in part. I stood here earlier hoping to gain your audience but was put off by your tears, of which I have been the cause (yes, you see with what terrible weakness I contend); later I stood here with the same intent but was put off by the voice of our own Ada, telling you of my reprehensible weakness at your very door; now I have come again and have been battling with myself, facing the intimidating prospect of you alone, my beloved, though nothing stands between us save my cowardice, and our mutual frustration, and, I think, longing...?"

Esther closed her eyes to squeeze tears from beneath their heavy lids. "Why have you waited so long and kept such a stony silence betwixt us, though filled with words of little meaning? And I, about to offer myself to you like a wanton creature! Why, dear guardian, when I believe you truly love me?"

"Esther, Esther, my own little princess and my high priestess; my faerie maiden and my wood-nymph of the glade, all these things I have called you in dreams, and all you have been and are to me, Esther my own. Let me - oh, let me tell you now, though I fear it comes too late: I have been engaged in a herculean struggle all these wasted days and nights to divorce my passions from my meditations upon your blessed image, but in purging myself of the sin of covetousness I have merely sinned against you more grievously by denying us both the pleasure of a reciprocal affection that overshadows us with its strength. Since you were a child, Esther, your eyes have both attracted and forfended against me, holding such sapphire wisdom as went far beyond your years, and hiding a loneliness that you kept humbly cloistered there; but also a radiance and a passion for living, Esther, that I claim as kin to my own. Yet we are one in that cursed way of life by denying ourselves the ultimate pleasure of existence, my dear heart as you are - and as I now dare to call you aloud - but Esther, this thing we deny ourselves for the discipline of the body, mind and spirit - it is true love, is it not? Is it - not - oh, Esther, I shall falter once more if I have not your encouragement, your compassion -"

"Compassion, Mr. Jarndyce? Is that all you would from your wife, as I shall soon become?" Esther did not loosen her grasp on his jacket sleeves when he began to shrink away, as if repenting once more of his heedlessness. "Perhaps," she went on somewhat haughtily, "there is that in my gaze which has kept you at bay - forfended, you call it - but its full import ought to have no less significance than that of an easily surmountable challenge, to you. If you cannot conquer these modest blue eyes, Mr. Jarndyce, how shall you conquer the heart and soul to which they are but conduits? I had risen from my bed tonight, dearest guardian and unattainable lover as you have shown yourself so far, to join you in yours! Now, whose passion for living, and for loving, is kept cloistered like that of a nun who mistrusts her own chastity?"

John Jarndyce breathed heavily but appeared to take courage from her heated outpourings. He took her round the waist, as he had never done before, and gathered her very close to him, his dark brow knitted into a scowl that was yet a tad mirthful - possibly betraying amusement.

"These are harsh words, yet I deserve them, for I have been a jealous coward - yes, jealous; jealous of all of you even as I cared for you, bitterly envying your youth - Ada and Richard's carefree romance, Woodcourt's liberty to court you with confidence, your imperturbable self-possession - in short I have been a fool and a child worthy of Skimpole's disdain. Yes, though you are all astonishment, this is Jarndyce's jaundice, of which he now repents at the feet of his goddess. But you see how I have tried to thwart my baser urges by depriving myself of you - only it has not cleared my guilty conscience but merely lain upon it a heavier burden, as I realize now that you would have had me as I was; old and grey and wearied as I am; so long as I were willing to fight for you, Esther, with all the passion of my soul - every drop of desire in my body - and that I am most capable of, most ready for, most willing and eager to do because I love you, in every way a man can love the worthiest of women... if you will allow me even now, Esther."

Her knees buckled helplessly under her at the full weight of his words, and also for the sheer proximity of their bodies, well-nigh crushed against him as she was. Both were a-throb with nervous tension and, she dared hope, a swift and demanding physical need; yet she found strength enough to resist a moment longer, despite the tremor in her voice and her entire being.

"I am here, and I love you, as a woman only may love a man. Whether or not I will allow you, that - I leave to you to discover for yourself."

Behind him, the meager light from Esther's twin candles emptied into a dark void that was Bleak House without her to brighten its halls; he could never bear it, and could hardly recall how he had born it prior to the advent of the Jarndyce and Jarndyce wards and Miss Esther Summerson. At his back, cooling fires vaporized into damp night air, sending curlicues of white smoke drifting like zephyrs through doorways as they made their ways up, up, and out. The last of his bitterness, regret, guilt and self-repression went with these fleeting phantoms: he took her up in his arms, finding them well suited to the support of her superficial weight, and with long, springing strides went forth into her chambers.

Miss Ada Clare, making her way back from the eastern prospect with ink-stained hands and a heart full of romance, was drawn to the light like a moth to a matchstick. A delicate butterfly she was, in a more fitting analogy, standing just beyond the dim circle of light cast from her companion's open doors; the shadows of Bleak House were no longer murky as they danced upon her softly rounded, rosy cheeks, but rather sprite-like and playful, seemingly. Ada remained as her guardian set his betrothed on her feet, only to bend over her lingeringly with - ah, yes, a kiss at last.

When the clock chimed a third time since she had first ventured out, Ada moved forward into the light to gently shut the doors of her companion's rooms. Neither Esther nor Jarndyce saw, or heard, or dreamt of the presence of anyone else in their chambers that night; and when Esther awoke the next morning, a bouquet of blue flags rested on the pillow beside her. An accompanying note read,

To my only true love,

And my soon-to-be bride:

The shade of this iris is neither deep

Nor so blue when compared with her eyes.

(Esther, I'm a poor excuse for a poet and we'd best face up to the fact. What I mean to say is simply this: you have stolen my heart and seared my flesh, and I am ready to take you as my wife.) Your own,

J.J.


End file.
